Chapter Twenty-Six Frejara #2
“There’s only so much you can do to hide a horde that size, and it’s harder still without a clear chain of command.
I assume my Captain will have taken over by now, but it appears he hasn’t sent them marching yet.
” I glanced at Mathias, but the mention of my old friend gave him no pause.
I held it gently on my heart a moment, and then, lightly, released it.
“That, I believe, gives us an advantage, of sorts. Benni and I have served together since we were children. Long before rank or banners. We’ve led campaigns side by side for a decade; we’ve been bitten by the same steel and bled on the same ground. I know him. I know his ways.”
I hesitated for a moment and dragged a breath into my lungs through sheer force of will.
“And I know that if it were him who was missing, I wouldn’t move until I knew for certain where he was.
I’d search every town, every village, beat up every drunk in a tavern for information and pull every breath out of every travelling merchant before I gave the order to march.
” My fingers curled into the fabric at my knees.
“That’s what I’d do. I know he’d do the same for me. ”
“Your armies might not be marching yet,” Maeve finally said, and I could hear the dread tremble underneath her forced composure. “But what of the Queen?”
“She always sends the birds first,” I said, flexing my fingers.
“Fast things – they cover leagues in a day. They don’t drift like other birds; they move with purpose, like they already know where you are.
” I looked up through the broken arch, where the sky cut narrow and high.
“But I haven’t seen a single one. Not once. ”
Across the fire, Mathias reached for another branch and laid it into the coals, the bark catching with a soft crack.
I knew he remembered those early days when I’d asked to be taken to the cliffs and the sea, or for him to clear the half-collapsed roof so I could see the stars.
He had known what I had really wanted – that it wasn’t about the stars at all, but about what flew beneath them, what might had been watching from above.
And as he looked up, through the sparks from the newly stoked fire, I could almost see a wry smile pulling at the sides of his otherwise tight lips.
“Not once.” I repeated and gave a stern look to Mathias, who, despite the gravity of our situation, still managed to find humour in my previous, fruitless search for escape, for allies, for signs.
But as I considered how far removed I now was from hoping for such signs, I too felt a tug at the corners of my mouth.
I had to run my hand over them to force them down.
“What I’m saying is that she would have sent someone.
” I brushed a strand of damp hair back from my face.
“Not just birds – riders, spies, fire at our backs. There’s been nothing.
Which means she either doesn’t know I am missing or doesn’t think I matter enough to find.
” I looked across at Mathias. “Either way, it buys us time.”
Mathias gave a slight nod, jaw tightening as he followed the thought. “And if the Captain hasn’t moved the troops, he’s still looking.” He paused a moment, calculating. “He’ll drag every tavern and crossroad from Harbour’s Bane to the Last Sea before he marches blind.”
“Exactly.” I shifted forward, resting my forearms on my knees. “He’s stalling. She’s unaware or indifferent. That’s the gap. It’ll close soon, but for now, it’s there.”
A heavy silence settled over the fire, thick with what had just been set in motion.
Maeve’s eyes seemed older than they had a moment before, her mouth pressed tight, as if holding back more than words.
Across from her, Mathias was quiet in a different way – the grim reality of the opportunity, and the challenge it carried, beginning to take hold.
“But a gap means nothing if I can’t move through it.
” I straightened, already mapping out the road ahead in my mind.
“I’ll need supplies. A horse. Provisions for at least a week if I ride hard – longer if I’m forced to go wide around patrols.
Clothing that doesn’t scream exile. And none of those grow in the cracks of temple stone. ”
Mathias exhaled through his nose, the sound dry. “Which means you’ll need to ask,” he said. “From the same people who still believe you belong at the end of a rope.”
I didn’t argue. There was no use pretending I could avoid them.
We were too far from the Ironvein River, the roads would take too long to walk, and the sea could not carry me to where I needed to go.
If I wanted to reach Irongate before the Queen’s eyes caught up with me, I would have to ride.
And if I wanted to ride, I would need the townsfolk to look me in the eye and see something worth sparing.
Even if it turned their stomach to do it.
Maeve let out a slow breath, her hand finally releasing its grip on the edge of her apron.
“Then we’d best not face them looking like drowned rats.
” She rose stiffly, brushing her palms against the worn fabric of her skirts.
“You’ll have better chances with a full stomach and clean clothes.
No one listens to reason from anyone with chattering teeth.
” She gave the pot one final stir, then began gathering what little remained of her things.
“We’ll sleep at mine tonight. It’s not far.
Still standing, last I checked. Warmer than this ruin, and dry. ”
Mathias rose with the rest of us, but there was a weight to it that pulled at something beneath the surface.
Nothing overt, nothing pronounced – just a coat shrugged into place and a glance toward the door that lingered a moment too long.
His movements were steady, measured, but something in them felt…
resolved. As if the decision had already been made hours ago, and now his body was simply catching up to it.
I watched the line of his shoulders as he stepped to Maeve’s side, brushing a hand lightly against her arm, and I felt the air shift with the kind of still momentum that comes just before a tide breaks.
The path to Maeve’s cottage curved along the rise, narrow and worn, flanked on one side by brittle grasses and on the other by the long breath of sea wind tugging at the cloaks on our backs.
Maeve walked ahead with the pot bundled in her arms, her stride steady despite the slope, while Mathias lingered closer at my side, his shoulder brushing mine each time the trail narrowed.
We reached a bend where the old well-post came into view, and the ground beneath us softened with loam and ashwort.
The wind shifted, sharper here, as if drawn in by the trees that leaned too close together.
And it was there that Mathias stepped in, his arm easing around my back in a single, practised motion, pulling us close enough that his voice could reach only me.
“I’m coming with you,” he murmured, the words low and even, his lips and his warm breath just at my ear.
Something in me stirred – not surprise, not relief, but a heavier pull, unfurling through me, steady as a tide. Before I could respond, before I could gather the thoughts beneath the words, he was already moving, stepping ahead to unbar the gate and lift the latch from Maeve’s door.
She ushered us in with mutters about dust and disuse, then moved toward the hearth with the surety of someone who could navigate the room in darkness.
Mathias followed, casting a glance over the room and checking the shuttered windows as the door clicked shut behind us.
The warmth of the room gathered slow, the scent of lye soap and old cedar rising from the floorboards.
I reached to unfasten the brooch at my throat, the clasp stiff with salt, the wool of the cloak clinging like a second skin.
My fingers fumbled at the pin – once, twice – and caught.
Then, heat. Sharp and sudden. A burst that flared up my forearm and through my chest, so fierce I staggered back a step.
The clasp fell to the floor with a metallic crack, glowing red-hot where it landed, the scorched fabric around my throat curling inward in thin black tendrils.
I stood frozen, heart thundering, breath caught in my throat.
The cloak fell off my shoulders, and from the peripheries of my vision, I could see the wool still held a flame, and my hands, my wrists…
the veins in them were almost glowing red hot – and painful.
I felt the same pain in my neck, rising fast towards my cheeks.
Mathias was there in a heartbeat, crossing to me in two strides, and his hands found my face, steady and certain and gentle.
His eyes searched mine, and whatever he saw there made no room for doubt – not about what had happened or who had caused it.
I felt the fire still dancing in the corners of my vision, a ring of light curling inward, not hurting anymore but burning all the same.
His forehead rested against mine, his breath anchoring me in the dark.
My pulse slowed. The flare ebbed. And as the last curl of flame at our feet flickered out with a soft gasp of smoke, I reached up and laid both hands over his, holding them to my cheeks as if that alone might keep whatever lived in me from bursting free again.